Fallen
by Minka
Summary: When Haldir passes to the Halls of Mandos at Helm’s Deep, Legolas is forced to reconsider the true value of immortality. Short, sad interlude telling of Legolas’ reaction to such a loss of immortal life that I feel was greatly missed in the movie.


*sits there sucking on a candy cane* ok, lets get this bitch of an idea outta my head! It has been driving me insane for days not - that and the fact that I am also obsessed with the fact that there were two Haldir's and two Legolas' in Tolkien's works! It is odd and yet really interesting!  
  
Ok, this is for all those people who, like me, were pissed with the fact that they killed Haldir at Helm's Deep and were even further pissed that it did not show Legolas' reaction to such a tragedy.  
  
It is a one off, one shot, non-slash interlude which I hope will make you feel sad all over again for the loss of Elven life.  
  
*****  
  
Fallen  
  
The Two Towers Interlude  
  
By Minka  
  
*****  
  
As the remains of Saruman's impressive army fled before the might of the recruits lead by Gandalf and Éomer, Aragorn turned worry filled eyes in the direction of Legolas.  
  
Mirkwood's crowned prince sat upon his horse, his brow knotted in worry as he watched the fleeing forms of the Uruk-hai and wild men as they retreated into the dawning morning. The sword that he had taken to using throughout their last stand and battle to hold the keep was stained with the black blood of the fell creatures that lay sprawled about his horses feet, some dead, other's withering in pain as life ebbed slowly away from their bodies. Even though his head was held high and his shoulders square, Aragorn was not fooled like the others that surrounded them. He could see through the Elven display of perfect composure, see the nervous individual behind the mask of an emotionless, age long warrior and all that the aforementioned second sight provided Aragorn with was a deeper feeling of dread.  
  
Just by looking at Legolas, Aragorn was able to see that he had not been informed of the greatest loss of the fight that had been played out during the cold night. As an Elf, Legolas was bound by will to feel for all that fell, to see what had transpired as a brutal way of settling something while having no respect for the beauty and meaningfulness of life and all that it had to offer. It was a curse to them - just as mortality was to the humans that walked the plains of Middle-Earth - that they should feel sympathy for even the loss of life of a dark creature, one long taken from, and no longer able to return, to the light. Given this, it was easy to see that the sudden demise of an immortal was likely to destroy them.  
  
At Gandalf's command, they all turned their horses and rode back to the bridge that led to the main gate. Legolas traveled beside Aragorn, and yet, all the way back to the keep, the human could not bring himself to tell the Elf of the real horror of that night.  
  
Once inside, Legolas was off his horse and had disappeared into the thick of the crowd without even a word, and all before Aragorn had worked up the courage to confront him. Looking after the prince, Aragorn dismounted and handed his reins to a nearby warrior, who accepted them with a confused look, knowing that it was not his job to take care of the mounts.  
  
Rushing through the crowd, Aragorn searched for any sign of the Elf, and yet, each time he was sure he had found him, it turned out to be one of the few surviving archers of Lothlórien or a mere figment of his imagination.  
  
Sighing in frustration, he turned on his heels and made his way back towards the keep, hoping that if he found Gimli there Legolas may be with him.  
  
*****  
  
Walking through the many darkened, stone passageways of the citadel, Aragorn soon found that finding either one of his friends was proving to be near impossible in the endless labyrinth of tunnels and chambers.  
  
The soft glow of candlelight filled the corridor he had just turned into more then any other had been lit, suggesting a large amount of flickering flames within a room that stood with the door slightly ajar. Two figures stood on either side of the door, and, as Aragorn grew closer, he saw that they were fully armed, Elven guards from Lothlórien.  
  
As he approached, the Elves bowed to him, giving Aragorn the feeling that he was expected which almost made his heart leap into his mouth. Nodding back, he gently and silently pushed open the door only to be hit by an overwhelming flood of flickering firelight and yet, despite the brightness, there was no heat and it felt as if the room itself was made of ice. Stepping around the door and pushing it closed behind him, he gasped at what he saw.  
  
The room, one of the larger ones of the keep, was lined with candles, each tall and white and not one single one had extinguished itself. Even the floor was lined with the burning pillars, making a straight pathway through the room and towards a raised dais in the centre of the chamber. Standing at the top of the steps with his back to the door was Legolas, his hair shining like the sun in the light of the candles as it cascaded down his back. He stood as still and tall as a tree, his head bent as he stared at something out of Aragorn's sight.  
  
Knowing that this was his chance and the best place to break such grievous news to his friend, Aragorn took a step forward only to become rather surprised when the Elf made no move to acknowledge him.  
  
"Legolas," Aragorn said softly while continuing to walk up behind the unmoving Elf. Fighting down the want to turn and run, Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment, trying to work out the best way the share his ill news as he came up the stairs to stand beside his long time friend. "Legolas, there is something that I must tell y-" his words were abruptly cut short when he reached the Elf's side, opened his eyes and followed his line of vision.  
  
There lay Haldir, his face pale and his hair dim as it rested about his shoulders, sprayed out like that of an angels glow. His eyes where open and staring, horror stricken, out into space and his lips parted slightly, showing the disbelief he must have felt when he was struck down. No longer did his skin faintly radiate light as was the way with the Elves, especially those of Lothlórien, and his eyes, though open, saw nothing, their light and magickal sway lost with the fleeting of the immortal soul. Though his clothes where splotched with blood, his face and visible skin had been cleaned and his blades washed and placed beside him. His bow lay upon his no longer rising chest and one pale, delicate hand had been wrapped around the dark, gold trimmed wood. Everything about him seemed peaceful, unwavering but for the terror in his eyes and the taut, thin drawn lips.  
  
Briefly wondering how the Lothlórien guard had found his way to such a resting place, Aragorn recalled that not all the Elves where lost. A few remained, only a few as most had been destroyed with the crumbling of the wall, falling to death at the hands of the brutal Orcs that swarmed below.  
  
Haldir had been their leader, their guide and their hope. Even to Aragorn, when Haldir arrived at the stairs of the citadel, it seemed as if they had been blessed, that somewhere a star shone upon them a little brighter, renewing their hope and whispering of things that could now come as they stood more of a chance.  
  
"How?" Legolas asked, his voice riddled with restrained grief and severing the thread of Aragorn thoughts. After long moments pause in which Aragorn could do naught to put his feelings into words for the prince, Legolas once again spoke, his tone telling the truth of his age. "You knew of this, did you not?" not waiting for confirmation from the human that stood statue still by his side, he continued, this time a little firmer "then tell me how it happened!"  
  
Swallowing the chunk that had rose in his throat; Aragorn dared a lightening quick look at the Elf who had long called him friend. Legolas looked as pale as the shell of what once was Haldir, his eyes dancing to a sad tune as they looked over the fallen Elf, taking all in and yet not having it register. He seemed drawn and haggard, as if he had been fighting his entire life with no pause and the soft dint in his left cheek showed that he gently chewed upon the skin in his confusion.  
  
"I was giving the order to fall back," Aragorn started, trying to keep his voice clear and jolt free for the sake of the prince, wanting to lend him the strength that he needed. "He heard and became distracted as he carried it on - I could not reach him in time." Voice finally breaking from both the lost life and the distant appearance of Legolas, he trailed off his speech, knowing that Legolas would be satisfied with what he had offered.  
  
"In the back." Legolas stated sadly as he gazed at the body of his friend. Haldir had taken a wound to the stomach, but it was the blow through his back that pierced his chest, caused his fall and departure to the Halls of Mandos; the Elven Houses of the Dead.  
  
Stretching out a shaking hand, Legolas gently lay it upon the pale, cool skin of the Elf's cheek, feeling the marble smoothness which would never again redden, no matter what the reason or cause. Tracing his curled knuckles over the flesh, his teeth sunk gently into his bottom lip, the inside of his cheek forgotten in his careful concentration of the study of death.  
  
It was alien to him, death, for rare was it that his kind passed from the world and his dealing with the humans where limited to that of Aragorn and the late Boromir. The human's death had been an awakening to the prince, once so sheltered that he hardly acknowledged the fact that, just because he did not see it, a human died almost every day, some of age, some of sickness - the two things that would never stand to hinder him or his people.  
  
Gandalf had been different, it had been quick and un-witnessed, and, as recent happenings had portrayed, it had not been final but more of a chance of a new beginning. Boromir he had seen die, had seen the colour drain from his face as the blood leaked from his body. He had stood as a witness to his last breath, his last word and his last look towards the sky above. It had been slow and unavoidable, the man's pain obvious and striking the Elf's own heart with a sense of grief that he had never before experienced.  
  
Yet Haldir was the worst.  
  
Here, surrounded by death, Legolas could almost see the dark robed figure as he came through each room, touching those that he sort to take, binding their spirits to his with a mere brush of his fingers. The thing that confused the Elf the most was that very concept, the fact that he could feel it as if it this conception of demise were his own belief and not just that of the human's.  
  
He had always thought that with an Elf it was different, that they would have the choice to go or stay just as they did in order to pass over the Sea, and yet, looking down on Haldir, his face silent in his gasp, he knew that it was not so, that life and death, though prolonged for the Elves, where the same whether you be of the immortals or the mortals.  
  
Haldir had not chosen to leave; he had been taken, touched by the icy hand of a mortal's death that now lingered upon his skin, taking it to a temperature that even Legolas could feel.  
  
Pulling his hair back over his shoulders, the prince of the Elves knelt down beside the small pallet of a bed, unheeding of Aragorn's quiet surveillance. He let his nimble fingers trail down the cloth covered arm, lightly rubbing the material together and storing the feel to memory. Like all Lothlórien archers, he wore no gauntlets of thick, harden leather like those of Mirkwood, but through the soft fabric under his fingers, Legolas could feel the thin band of light doeskin that wrapped around his wrists, protecting them from the backlash of the Elven-hair strings.  
  
After that came the Elf's long, slender hands, pale and slightly scratched from his fight and fall. Running his own slender fingers over the small knuckles and down the length of the fingers to stop at the shortly trimmed and clean fingernails, Legolas sighed. "The hands of an archer, not a swordsman," he said with dismay and to which Aragorn merely nodded his head in agreement.  
  
Shifting his gaze from the pale hands, Legolas once again looked up to the face of the lifeless Elf. Haldir looked young, like that of a human just into his manhood and yet even Legolas had no real clue as to how old his friend really was. Leaning over the face of the archer and guard of Lothlórien, Legolas tucked a stray lock of Haldir's sliver-white hair behind his pointed ear; hair that would never again blow freely in the wind and ears that would never again hear a sound. Allowing his fingers to continue their exploration of the Elf's cold face, Legolas was enthralled by the fact that nothing moved. Touches that would have normally caused one to flinch from the feather light, ticklish pressure provoked no reaction or falter in the still features.  
  
Looking into Haldir's unseeing eyes, he once again spoke, this time causing Aragorn to jump as he was brought out of reverence of the sight before him. "They say you can see the image of the killer in the eyes of an Elf," Legolas said grimly, while shooting a look up to Aragorn, holding the man still with his intense blue gaze, "but how can that be so when felled in such a way?" he asked, begging Aragorn to provide him with the answers that no living being - immortal and mortal alike - possibly could. He wanted Aragorn to tell him that Haldir would be safe, that he would be happy where he was going and that he felt no grief in passing from this world and yet at the same time he knew that he would receive no answer, not even if he were to ask it of Gandalf.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, Aragorn took a step forward and laid a hand on the Elf's shoulder which, a moment later became covered with one of Legolas' own. "Im sinome ni le, Legolas," Aragorn said, trying to pour as much comfort into his words as possible while giving the Elf's shoulder a light squeeze. [I am here for you, Legolas.]  
  
"Hannon le, nin mellon," Legolas whispered, half to himself, half to the man that stood over him. Resting his head upon his hand on his shoulder, Legolas stayed crouched on the floor, eyes never straying from Haldir's still form. [Thank you, my friend.]  
  
Neither knew how long they stayed like that, Legolas watching Haldir as if praying for him to suck in a breath of life and return and Aragorn's eyes drifting from his distraught friend to the body of the Lothlórien Elf, squeezing Legolas' shoulder whenever he felt the archer needed the support.  
  
Finally, with a small sniff and his tongue darting out over his lips, Legolas took his hand from atop Aragorn's and gently leaned forward and out of the human's reach. Looking down on the Elf one last time, he became faintly aware of another presence enter the room, and from the breathing and ringing of the footsteps, knew that it was Gimli. Ignoring his dwarven friend for the time being, he drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes.  
  
Once again running his hand over Haldir's cheek, he whispered softly, "Gwend na hae athon i gurth, nin mellon. Lothron lîn erúss cil a le hirsidh." Placing a chaste kiss upon the Lothlórien archer's brow, he trailed his hands over Haldir's eyes, closing them to save others from the horror that still filled the once sparkling orbs.  
  
Gimli, who had stood silently by the door, watching in anguish, leant over to Aragorn, and, pulling the human down gently, asked, "what did he say?"  
  
Never taking his eyes from Legolas, Aragorn lent his head down and whispered so not to disturb the Elf. "He told him that friendship is beyond even death and that he hopes that Haldir's journey will be swift and that he finds peace."  
  
Lowering his eyes, Gimli said no more, letting the Elf's words repeat within his head and their true meaning surface and stay within his mind.  
  
The room fell deadly silent, but it was not an eerie silence, more one of respect and love and to all three it seemed as if Legolas' last words rang around the halls. Within a moment, all the candles flickered, as if blown by a gust of wind even though there was no draft and just when they thought that the lights would go out and that they would be plunged into darkness, the flames righted their selves, once again standing tall. A peaceful calm ascended upon the room as the candles once again burnt brightly and to Legolas it seemed as if Haldir's unmoving face had slackened, as if at last his spirit had truly departed and that he was in peace.  
  
Rising somewhat shakily to his feet, Legolas turned towards his two friends, tears playing at the corners of his eyes and giving them a twinkling effect as he let his gaze fall on Gimli.  
  
It took the dwarf a moment to realize that he was now the focus of Legolas' attention, yet once he did, he looked up with a sad smile. Glancing from the Elf to the ranger, he could see the questioning in their eyes, residing side by side with their grief.  
  
"Gandalf says we are riding to Isengard," he informed them quietly, not really wishing to break the strange atmosphere that had fallen upon the room after Legolas' blessing. "he wishes to leave on the morrow."  
  
A slight sigh came from Legolas at the last words, obviously not entirely happy with them, and with a gentle smile, Aragorn walked up to him and once again placed a hand upon his shoulder. "You do not have to come," he said, while looking right into the sad eyes of his friend, "no one will think less of you for it, and you have a duty here now, as their prince." he said, referring to the few remaining Elves that still walked the halls and battlements of the fort.  
  
Sighing for a second time, Legolas looked to Haldir once again. Turning his eyes back to Aragorn, he offered the human the best smile that he could manage. "Nay, I will accompany you," he told him while letting his gaze dart quickly to Gimli before meeting Aragon's once again. "I want the Ring destroyed. . .and the death to cease."  
  
With that said, Legolas, the prince of the Elves, bowed his head and, without so much as a backwards glace at the body of the Lothlórien Elf, walked from the room.  
  
*****  
  
The End.  
  
Oh, and I even have some candy cane left! I am happy!  
  
I hope you all enjoyed that - in the way that you can enjoy sad things, that is. Please let me know what you think. Thank you.  
  
And yes, there was a place where I used a strange mix of Sindarin and Quenya, but I needed the word, and Quenya had it, so don't be angry! Also, I think that Haldir did actually wear gauntlets, but it sounded better if he didn't and do excuse me if I got anything wrong - I have only seen the movie once, so bear with me and call it artistic license!  
  
As for Legolas and the prince thing, he is the prince of Elves. Tokien's Elven society is much like that of Medieval Europe, you have your high king and queen (Celeborn and Galadriel) and then you have your king's and lords of other places. If anything should happen to Galadriel and Celeborn, the rule would then pass to Thranduil, but because of his alcoholic, gold loving nature, it would, more likely, by pass him and go to Legolas, then Elrond ('tis important to remember that Elrond is only a Lord and only a half-Elven one at that) thus means that Legolas is the 'crowned prince of Mirkwood' and yet the prince of the Elves for Celebrian (Galadriel's daughter and Elrond's wife) left Middle-earth after she was taken by the Orcs. Make sense? Clear everything up?  
  
Minka. 


End file.
